


Disarmed

by iwtv



Series: Silverflint from tumblr [6]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, character injury, marooner island, post season 3 fluffy fluff, with a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being ambushed by Roger's men, Flint hears Silver's been shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disarmed

"There is an element of this journey into the dark that I'm only now beginning to appreciate."  
"What's that?"

"How good it feels."

\--------

“Take me to him.”

They’d just arrived back to the Queen’s island from a successful hunting trip when Roger’s second wave had struck. A complete surprise attack, timed perfectly, James now realized.

There had been no time to prepare and barely enough time to arm themselves against the initial onslaught. The commanding officer and his group of roughly one hundred men must have spotted the Walrus and followed her, then waited, hidden within a smattering of covers and rocky outcroppings. The only thing that saved them from defeat was the ability to arm themselves quickly. It had been John’s suggestion and foresight to keep weapons caches scattered across the island.

*John.*

James had lost track of him in the chaos of the ambush. Silver had been making a list of their plunder as it was off loaded. James had been helping, trekking to and fro from the launches. The two of them had been perhaps sixty or so feet away from one another when an armed frig had appeared from a shadowed bend, firing at them while ground troops had appeared from concealed launches.

He should have ran to Silver, or at least shouted his name. Made certain they stayed together. Or yelled at him to take cover. Could have. Would have. Should have.

The word had come right after victory was announced. Dooley had run up to him, out of breath and favoring a bloodied arm. He’d panted out that Mr. Silver had been shot but knew precious little else, save for the general area where he was.

“Take me to him,” James said.

He followed Dooley away from the beach and over a grassy knoll. There—in an area similar to the spot they’d first set foot on the island—a group of men were steadily growing, huddled around something. James pushed past Dooley and picked up his pace. The distance seemed to grow the more he walked. By the time he reached the fringes of the gathering he was practically running. They glanced up at him, gave him a wide berth. He could feel his pulse throbbing loudly. A seagull screeched overhead. He pushed roughly past the men. Billy was crouching next to Silver, who was not quite flat on his back but trying to prop himself up on an elbow, face contorted in pain.

He was *alive.*

The words swirled over and over in James’s head and he struggled to maintain his composure as he knelt down across from Billy. He reached out and pushed Silver’s struggling form back down. Some of the pain drained from his face. James’s hands lingered over him.

John had given him a pained laugh when he’d spotted him. He was covered in blood and sweat, dark curly hair loose and plastered to the sides of his face. He was pale. But he was *alive.*

“Well that’s strike number two for me, isn’t it?” he managed to huff out. His eyes darted up to catch James’s. James saw a distinct benevolence there, directed at him and his presence. He gave Silver a small nod, swallowing hard.

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch, I’ll give you that,” he said when he was certain that same softness wasn’t so raw on his tongue.

Silver had been shot in the front of his shoulder, not too far away from where he himself had been shot by Dufresne so many months ago.

He and Billy helped him shrug out of his coat, assessing the damage while Dr. Howell made his way through the crowd a few minutes later.

“It’s not damaged anything major and I should be able to extract it with minimal additional damage,” he told them.

James had a few men go to the village to fetch a cot. They returned to lift their injured quartermaster onto it but James waved them away and he and Billy helped him themselves.

“I wasn’t lucky, you know,” Silver mused quietly to him once the crowd had dispersed when James ordered them to gather the dead. Howell went to gather what supplies he needed to take out the bullet. James looked down at Silver on the coat, not quite having heard him. He had been too focused on getting them to the village; the blood coating Silver’s arm was making him tense all over.

“What?”

Billy snorted and fixed him with a slight frown.

“Took a bullet for you, he did,” said the bosun with more than a small amount of disapproval.

Baffled, James let the expression show as he glanced down to Silver. Silver’s eyes seemed to travel inside and out James; somehow their non-verbal exchanges were always filled with intimacy.

“You did what?” he asked slowly, certain this was a jest.

He watched Silver’s chest move up as he took a deep breath, but they had made it back to the village and now the Queen’s people took in the sight and began a low murmuring which would no doubt reach the Queen and her daughter soon enough. They remained silent until Silver was delivered to his hut. He and Billy gently sat the cot down over Silver’s bed.

“I’ll fetch some fresh water,” said Billy. James nodded, not taking his eyes off Silver.

As soon as they were alone James let out a long sigh and ran a hand over his short hair.

“It was almost immediately after the ambush started,” said John without provocation. “When the yells first started, I looked to you on the beach. He was behind you a ways, off to the left. I’m fairly certain he knew who you were, who he was aiming at—but his aim was poor. I think they meant to take you out first and avoid anything more messy. But I foiled his plan.”

James clenched his teeth at the dark smirk that lay under Silver’s thick mustache and beard.

“And they say *I’m* the one with a penchant for self destruction,” he growled, not sharing his quartermaster’s sense of humor.

The humor faded from John and he winced sharply, hand coming up to cover his shoulder. James pressed the loose bandages over it, looking behind him.

“Where the fuck is Howell?”

He needed distraction. Silver’s blood was wet on his hands, his eyes and the heat rising from him suddenly too close, too intense.

“So you’ve nothing else to say about it?” Silver prodded, tone neutral but James knew better than to look directly down at him.

“I’ve plenty to say about it,” he snapped. “You’re a fucking idiot. Giving speeches about being my end but then risking your life in the most foolish way imaginable.”

“There’s my guy,” said Silver softly. “And yet here you are, worrying over me and a common gunshot wound. So I’m not sure that *entirely* discounts our earlier discussion.”

James scoffed. “Christ.”

He moved to rise but Silver’s hand clamped down over his own, making him wince again. James had little choice but to meet his eyes. Silver said nothing more. Instead his eyes searched James’s brazenly and James wasn’t sure if Silver was pulling him in, or he was pulling Silver in, or *down.* Down to some place long untouched and unused but that still existed within him, twisted because of Captain Flint but still *there.*

Still wanting, still needing.

Dr. Howell and Billy returned and James quickly pulled his hand away. He moved back and allowed the doctor to get to work. He spoke with Billy just outside the hut. The village was abuzz as dozens of wounded and dead were brought back from the beach; the drums inside the shaman’s medicine hut started up their deep rhythmic boom.

John was right. There were other matters that needed attending right now. He should go with Billy to the Queen, plan their next move. Discuss how to best keep something like today from repeating itself. Begin listing the names of those who had died. He should. He could. He certainly *would*…

He told Billy to speak for him to the Queen and to tell her and Madi he would join them in council in a few hours. Then he went back inside the hut. Howell finished his work on Silver in short time after the large ball of lead had been removed, giving him some stitches and fresh bandages.

When they were alone again James hesitated, afraid to close the distance between them when John was feeling so bold. But John was staring up at the ceiling as though something were there.

“I don’t regret it, not really,” he said after a moment. “If it were to happen again, I would probably still do it. The risk was calculated, I’ll have you know.”

It was only then that James realized he was *still* talking about taking the bullet.

“If I had not, there’s a chance—however slim, given his poor aim—that you would be dead or very near it. But my point is I don’t give a damn how stupid you think it was.”

There was a lilt to his voice to emphasize his words, which usually made James furious, but this time when Silver turned to look at him James couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Fine,” he replied.

“And as soon as I feel better I’m rejoining you in the council.”

“All right.”

“And of course the men shouldn’t know what actually happened.”

“No.”

Silver stopped, brows furrowed when James refused to argue. He struggled up on his elbows.

“I am quite serious. This isn’t a game, you—”

James cut the space between them in a few long strides and knelt down, hand coming to slide over the curve of John’s neck, supporting his face as he kissed him. He heard a strangled noise come from him, but it was cut off. John’s frozen lips suddenly moved over his, parting and turning the kiss into something less chaste. James pushed his tongue inside, testing the waters. John pushed right back. James opened wider, taking all of John’s lips and teeth and tongue before breaking away, chest heaving slightly.

John held his composure for only a second before his lips parted and he let out a shaky sigh, eyes closing. James was nearly taken aback by the look of…what, exactly? Relief? John’s muscles relaxed and when he opened his eyes they were soft and dazed, searching his face yet again.

James slowly retracted his hand from Silver.

“No,” he said quietly. “This is not a game.”

“Kiss me again,” said John in one slurred, disarmed voice that made James’s heart beat faster and his pulse quicken. He immediately complied, giving John the same kiss as before, languid but deep. He felt John tremble under him, unable to hold himself up any longer so he gently pushed him down over the bed.

“You need to rest,” James said, shocked at the raw edge to his voice.

“Stay with me?”

John’s tone mirrored his own but it was full of uncertainty. It had been a long time since James had caught more than a glimpse of John’s vulnerability. That John was dropping his guard now and allowing him to see it made him fearful and excited at the same time; it was like the low, dull thrum of the string running between them being plucked, reverberating more loudly than ever before.

James shut the door to the hut and went back to the bed. John scooted closer to the wall when he saw that James meant to lie next to him. He faced the door while John was at his back. He liked the feeling of John being between himself and the wall, safe.

John slowly snuck an arm under James’s and over his waist. James encouraged him, shifting until their bodies were molded into one another and James felt the tickle of John’s breath on the base of his neck.

“How good it feels,” he heard John murmur before he dozed off to sleep.

***

Am I craved, am I hungered for?

Am I a thirst unquenched?

Do you quiver at the thought of me,

Do you shake at the sound

Of my voice coming near?

I do not know if I will ever

Be a thing desperately demanded,

But if even for a moment,

I am quietly

Longed for,

This is enough,

this

Would be plenty.

\--Tyler Knott Gregson


End file.
